When I think of the word “artist,” I think of Picasso or The Artist formerly known as Prince But the honest truth is somewhere along the creative path, I disassociated it with my own writing. Amid the creative journey that is chalked full of submissions, queries, promoting, and learning, and let’s not forget the very thing we initially set out to do: writing, I lost a part of the inner creative part of me.
The definition of an artist is:
- A person who creates art
- A person who creates art as an occupation
- A person who is skilled at some activity
Writing is art. I’ve always been a very imaginative person, from making dolls out of clothing pins to creating characters out of fragments. Something happens as you progress in your writing endeavors; the more you learn, the easier it is to disassociate from the heart of what made you pick up the pen in the first place. I believe that creativity is everywhere and can be found in almost anything. That’s hope, right?
However, lately, the well went dry. My muse packed its bags, shook its head (complete with an eye roll), and hightailed it to some unknown locale without a forwarding address. Not even a Dear John or Samara letter. Ok, that may be stretching it, but the feeling of longing for that missing piece was not. It’s what makes for a soulful connection between my words, thoughts and stories. It’s Wonder Woman, She-Ra, and Cat Woman rolled into one. It’s the stride. The sashay of the hips and the knowing smile.
Later, as I talked to my best friend, I found what was missing was not just passion, which was the head, but the center (the spirit) was – hope. Writing supplies me with hope. Hope to turn a what-if into a miraculous motley of characters that appear with their own attitudes and eye-rolls.
So now, not only am I writing but redefining my inner Artist and nourishing my creative well with an arsenal. Not quite GI Jane, but you get my point. Part of the beauty of creativity is the variances within it. The twist and swerves. I can’t say those swerves are always fun or come with immediate answers as the creative path is known for its flirtatious diversions. But what I can say is feeding my inner artist is just as important as the writing itself and has become a part of my defining “why” I write.
I’ll keep you posted…